


the most wonderful time of the year.

by dustofwarfare



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Blasphemy, M/M, Modern Setting, demon!ciel, except not really, only one of them is happy about it, sebastian and ciel go christmas shopping, sebastian likes shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sebastian explains to Ciel why demons should celebrate the holidays. (Follows the end of season 2 of the Kuroshitsuji anime, set in modern day, in a Target shopping center near you!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the most wonderful time of the year.

**the most wonderful time of the year.**

Sometimes Ciel thinks that if embodying pure evil and dining on the souls of humans is all there is to being a demon, he is a better one than Sebastian. 

But to be a demon also means living forever, to turn with the earth through all of the ages of time, and Ciel will admit to himself that he is not quite as skilled in that particular area as perhaps he should be. 

For while Ciel can take the souls of his prey without mercy and revel in the pleasure of it, it still sometimes shocks him to see women walking about with skirts that end at their knees. He flatly refuses to learn how to drive, and the one time he flew in an airplane was one time too many. He finds modern clothing hideous and _lazy_ , and resisted owning a pair of denim jeans for as long as possible. His vocabulary occasionally includes words that fell out of fashion along with top hats and cravats, and the only thing that convinced him to leave the walking stick at home was being treated like some kind of invalid for carrying it. 

But if Ciel is a creature of his age, Sebastian is a creature of _any_ age. His human form looks the same as it has since the first moment he stepped out of the shadows in his butler’s livery, but his clothing is always stylish and current with the latest trends, well-fitted to his lean frame. His voice even maintains the same crisp British accent as he had from the first, but it is peppered now with new words and common slang. He is fascinated by technology, is charmed by gadgets and motion pictures and automobiles, and the airplane ride was, of course, his idea. 

So together they navigate eternity, with Sebastian marveling at humanity and Ciel marveling at no longer being a part of it -- except when he is obligated to pretend otherwise, as he is now, scowling as he follows Sebastian down the aisle of a shopping center. 

“This is your fault, you realize,” Sebastian says, stopping to admire a display of tiny things that blink and make noise. He really is a bloody bird on occasion, honestly. 

“I should be very interested to know why you think this shopping trip is my fault, Sebastian,” Ciel says, arms crossed over his coat. He does not get cold, but Ciel appreciates the _accoutrements_ of winter, as they more closely resemble proper clothing for a gentleman. Even if said gentleman is a monster.

“I meant Christmas, my -- Ciel.” If there is one thing with which Sebastian struggles in this modern century, it is remembering to call Ciel by his name instead of some version of _young master_ when they are out in public.

(And though it would be too easy to admit such a thing, Ciel enjoys the sound of his name on his demon’s silver tongue -- especially when Sebastian says it in his true form, giving it a sibilant sort of sound that makes it very appropriately demonic.) 

“You would have me responsible for the entirety of this consumerist holiday?” Ciel’s mouth tightens. “Really, Sebastian.” 

A small child jostles Ciel, pushing past him to get to the display. Receiving no apology, Ciel gives the young child a _terrifying_ glance, feeling somewhat vindicated when the child starts wailing in response. 

It reminds Ciel in a vague sort of way that he is hungry; but he is tired of being amongst so many people, and a child’s soul is more of a snack than a proper meal. 

Sebastian gives him his sly devil’s smile, and were Ciel manifesting his true form he would likely climb Sebastian right there in the aisle. But humans do not take anyone under the age of twenty-two seriously, and so Ciel long ago learned how to alter his appearance if he wished not to be treated as a child. 

He had intended his altered form to resemble what he might have looked like if he hadn’t become a demon at thirteen, but a few decades ago, he looked in the mirror and saw an odd mixture of his younger self and _Sebastian_ reflected back at him. He wondered if Sebastian noticed, and thought that he probably did. 

He could always revert to his true form, that of his younger self, and _then_ climb Sebastian....but Americans are nosy people, and someone would likely phone the authorities. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Sebastian likes living in America. He says it is because America is a place of extremes -- extreme piety and extreme wickedness, often found in the same _person_ \-- and because he enjoys the hypocrisy so often found among its citizens. 

Ciel finds it exhausting, mostly, but he is not as picky with his prey as is Sebastian. Understanding a bit more about demons and how they come to be, Ciel can understand now why Sebastian so enjoyed excelling in his role as Ciel’s butler. Sebastian began as little more than an essence, and it took centuries of evolution before he gained sentience, much less the ability to wear a human form. To pass through human civilization and be regarded as one of them is, to him, a triumph of his power as a demon. 

Whereas Ciel finds nothing quite as gratifying as those rare moments when a human will see him and shudder, or turn their gaze away -- not knowing what he is, precisely, but knowing instinctively that he is not _one of them_. To shed the traces of his humanity enough to be truly a demon is, for Ciel, as sweet as it is for Sebastian to pass unnoticed among them. 

“I did not mean that you personally were at fault for the holiday, Ciel,” Sebastian says, drawing his attention. “I meant the Victorians. So many of the trappings associated with the modern holiday originated in that period, as you well know. Christmas often brought you great profits, as I recall.” Sebastian’s ruddy eyes light up. “Ah! This ornament is a cat, and look, it chases this very tiny mouse and _meows_.” 

“I _hate_ Christmas,” says Ciel, as if his glower is not indication enough of his feelings on the matter. “And as _you_ well know, Funtom’s profits went directly into my plans to enact revenge, so it is hardly as if they were intended for the goodwill of mankind.” 

A woman hurries down the aisle and, focused as she is on her portable phone, does not look where she is going and bumps into Ciel’s shoulder. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” 

“You weren’t precisely looking, now, were you?” Ciel responds icily, and watches with some degree of enjoyment as the woman turns red from embarrassment and moves away from him. His human form has never been as charming or engaging as Sebastian’s, as something about his sharp cheekbones, angular features and unfriendly expression tend to make people nervous. 

Ciel watches her go with a predator’s considering gaze; it doesn’t take that long to take a soul, not if he’s quick about it, and he knows precisely how long Sebastian can dilly-dally about looking at decorations. “I don’t see why you insist on celebrating this holiday, anyway,” he says, as Sebastian moves along, his fingers nimbly plucking a strand of what look to be fake cranberries off of a shelf. “Isn’t it rather theologically inappropriate for us to acknowledge it in the first place?” 

“Whyever would you say such a thing?” Sebastian asks, tilting his head, giving Ciel that bright smile of his. 

Ciel gives him a flat stare in return. “Because we’re _demons_? Shall I draw you a diagram to clarify my point?”

Sebastian’s grin widens, showing just a hint of teeth. “Oh, please, do. You’re a terrible artist, I should love to see what you come up with.” 

Ciel makes a frustrated sound. “Sebastian. Does a holiday centered around peace and goodwill sound particularly _demonic_ to you?” 

Sebastian selects a few trinkets and pushes the cart down the aisle. People naturally get out of his way, without him even having to glare at them to do so. Ciel glares _for_ him, just because he wants to. 

“Ah, but Ciel, you are not paying attention to the truth beneath all this tinsel. Can’t you just _feel_ all the tension and misery in the air?”

“Are you sure that is not only _me_ , and my dislike of shopping?” 

“Yes, Ciel. I am quite aware of what you feel like when you’re displeased.” Sebastian’s smile turns a little mean. “I’ve had plenty of experience with your moods, by now.” 

Ciel wishes for a moment he had his walking stick, just so he could hit Sebastian with it. Instead, he reaches in the cart and pulls out the cat ornament, intending to break it -- but Sebastian is quicker, damn him, and nimbly retrieves the small trinket before Ciel can demolish it in a temper. 

“I would only go and get another one,” Sebastian says, sighing. 

“It would still be a bit of an inconvenience,” Ciel tries, arms crossed. 

“Yes,” Sebastian agrees, drumming his fingers on his cheek and winking at him. “It would mean we would be here longer, so I believe you would be the one inconvenienced.” 

Ciel no longer gets headaches, but he cannot resist the urge to rub at his temples. “I thought we were discussing how this holiday made humanity miserable, not _me_.” 

“We were. That you hate it is merely an added bonus,” Sebastian says, breezily, nodding politely at a man who is dragging a screaming child out of the electronics section. His eyes are _sparkling_. “If you would just stop sulking and focus, you would see what I mean. The air is thick with misery, Ciel -- not just yours -- and it is _delightful_.” 

Humming, Sebastian selects some fake garland to add to the cart. “That woman over there, looking at the candles -- she spent twenty minutes searching for a parking spot, only to have someone else take it from her while she was looking for something in her purse. It enraged her, because now she had to drive around the crowded parking lot, in a hurry to get in to the equally as crowded building. She snapped at a woman, who then snapped at her own child, who is crying loudly right now and annoying the man ahead of them in line. Each little _inconvenience_ builds upon the other, do you see?” 

“Hmmph,” says Ciel, remaining unconvinced. He does, however, eye a section of Christmas candy with consideration. Whether or not the taste is the same, he still has a bit of fondness for sweets. 

“Most of the people in here are going to spend hours shopping for gifts that they cannot afford, incurring more unnecessary debt in the process. And they will be forced to travel and spend time with families they do not even like, right when travel is the most costly and, of course, the weather most dreadful. They will endure parties and whining children who are desperate for some toy or another --” here, Sebastian gives him a poignant look that Ciel just as poignantly ignores “--and snap endlessly at their children, spouses, friends...forced into gift exchanges and parties with people they don’t even _like_.” 

Sebastian sighs again, almost blissfully. “Obligatory sentimentality...if that is not a concept born of Hell, my lord, I don’t know what is. To take something intended in a spirit of simple compassion and goodwill and turn it into such an occasion of guilt and _misery_....tell me you cannot see the appeal in that, and that this is not a season in which we may make merry in our special way.” 

Ciel is actually too surprised to say anything about Sebastian’s slip in addressing him as _my lord_. He blinks, then stands still and considers this. “So your bloody cheerfulness has nothing to do with trite sentimentality, but in how others are forced, coerced, and practically guilted into making themselves miserable for no real reason?” 

“ _Yes_ , my Ciel,” Sebastian breathes, eyes glowing soft crimson, the same shade as the strand of fake cranberries coiled, snake-like, in their shopping cart. 

Ciel tilts his head and uses his demonic senses to _feel_ around him, as if he is hunting; he is not quite as good at it as Sebastian, and it takes considerably more effort and focus for him to do so. But then he finds it, that thing that is making Sebastian as content as a fatted cat with a bowl of cream; the thoughts and feelings hidden beneath the tinny festive music and inane chatter, the tempting scent of misery underlying the cloying scented candles and perfumes. 

_I don’t have enough money for this --_

_Is she going to get me anything, I don’t want to spend too much money if she’s going to regift me like last year --_

_I don’t want to go visit my dad, all he does is drink and make my mom cry --_

_Fucking wife and her goddamn parties --_

_I want this I want it I want it --_

_I hate kids, I hate this job, why did I want to work here, the discount isn’t worth it --_

_So ungrateful, won’t even care that we’re there --_

_When is he going to die, so we can stop pretending we like each other?_

__

And, from a young, attractive young lady who just happens to walk into the aisle where Sebastian is still angsting over the garland -- 

_Oh, damn it. He’s buying garland. Straight guys don’t buy garland, do they?_

Ciel snickers at that, and lets his eyes half-close as he feels the rise and swell of stress and guilt and tension, the sheer _unhappiness_ amongst all this false cheer. It’s a pleasant sensation -- more than, actually, and it makes Ciel shudder as his mouth waters, wanting something far sweeter than candy. 

“Ah, it seems as if you understand,” Sebastian murmurs, glancing down at him with an amused expression. His pupils slit and the dark thing he is peeks out of those garnet eyes, and Ciel feels Hell’s answering call deep inside himself as his own eyes flash back in answer. 

_I suppose Sebastian has a thing or two left to teach me about reveling in evil, after all._

He won’t give Sebastian the satisfaction of _agreeing_ with him, of course. But Ciel finds their shopping adventure, if not enjoyable, at least far more tolerable; and he puts up less of a fuss about the cat ornament and the garland and the blinking lights, and haughtily ignores Sebastian’s raised eyebrows when he puts a bag of Christmas candy in the basket for himself. 

“You keep Christmas in your way, Sebastian, and I shall keep it in mine,” Ciel sniffs. Leave it to bloody Dickens to write a morality tale about how noble it is to be poor, given his stint in debtor’s prison. 

“Yes, my lord Ebenezer Scrooge.” Sebastian picks up a t-shirt with the picture of the Grinch on it, and looks thoughtfully at Ciel. 

“Do it and I shall have you exorcised,” Ciel snaps, eyes narrowing. He understands that particular cultural reference, thank you very much. 

Sebastian gives a soft, sinister laugh and smiles at him, radiating pure malevolence as he stands amidst the clueless shoppers milling about -- a wolf among sheep. 

_My wolf, always. Now and forever, amen._

Ciel smiles back at him, his teeth sharp in his mouth, the merry sound of bells ringing in his ears.


End file.
